


What We Know

by SassySnowperson (DramaticEntrance)



Series: Merrick/Draven [5]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, They've had a while to work on it, Watch out they're very nearly competent about their feelings at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 08:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticEntrance/pseuds/SassySnowperson
Summary: The war is over, everyone is celebrating, and Draven has something he needs to take care of.Draven gave Merrick a small nod. "Needed to finish this.""You're working." Merrick's tone was flat. "Tonight. The Empire surrenderedtoday. Dav. The war isover.""Your side of it. Not mine."





	What We Know

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the superlative [Dolly Bassett](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolly_Bassett/), thanks for looking this one over!
> 
> In response to a Tumblr Kiss prompt "kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing."

"Dav! There you are. I lost you." 

Draven looked up from his screen, past his desk and the piles of holodisks from his agents, to find Merrick lounging in the office door. He stood there, one hand splayed against the doorframe, his uniform unbuttoned at the collar, looking a little flushed. It was a mask, and a good one. He looked like your bog-standard fighter hotshot, deliberately charming, maybe a little drunk. Lucky or skilled, the grey at his temples whispered. Ambitious, the pips on his chest said, to make it to high command. 

Draven knew better. The command pips were a consolation prize, traded for a cockpit Merrick had never wanted to give up. The lean masked a limp, the wound that had grounded him. Draven knew every snarl in Merrick's skin, knew Merrick's scars better than his own. 

He also knew that Merrick really was that charming, just as he knew it was wrapped around a kind and sincere heart. The flush...he was definitely tipsy.

Well, good, he had every right to be. 

Draven gave Merrick a small nod. "Needed to finish this." 

"You're working." Merrick's tone was flat. "Tonight. The Empire surrendered _today_. Dav. The war is _over_." 

"Your side of it. Not mine." 

"Of course." Merrick's face tightened and he started picking his way carefully across the room. He was moving slower than he normally would, deliberately bracing himself along furniture when he passed. Draven noted it: likely just Merrick compensating for the alcohol, but his leg might be aching more than usual.

Merrick stopped alongside Draven's chair, turning with his arms folded toward Draven, leaning against the desk. "Your war is perpetual." 

"But yours is done. Go celebrate. I'll find you." Draven went back to his datapad. He typed a couple more words, then paused, and leaned over to press a kiss against Merrick's thigh. 

Love didn't come naturally to Draven, but fortunately, Merrick was patient while he worked at it. 

Merrick chuckled. He leaned down and kissed Draven's cheek, running his hand through Draven’s hair in an affectionate ruffle. "Seriously, love, I would like to spend some time celebrating with you before you throw yourself back into things. Please." 

Draven looked up at Merrick, and once again thought to himself that he had been trained to resist interrogation, pleading blue eyes and a rogue’s moustache should not be so effective against his defenses. "I'll be done in about twenty minutes. It is important. Then I'm all yours." 

"Promises, promises." Merrick sounded affectionate, fingers massaging their way along Draven's scalp. "I'll believe it when I see it." 

Draven closed his eyes, briefly enjoying the contact, before he shook his head and turned back to the datapad. "Stick around. I can work with you here."

"Well," Merrick said, twinkle in his eye. "You can certainly try." 

Draven didn't try to stop the smirk. 

Merrick started innocently enough, pressing his knee against Draven's thigh. Then fingers found Draven's shoulder, tracing a gentle line along the ridge, up his neck, a thumb stopping briefly at a tension knot, then up around his ear. Draven steadied his breathing and focused on his work. 

The focus shattered when the fingers came together around his lobe and _tugged_ , jerking Draven's head to the side, in front of Merrick. 

Draven hissed through his teeth and glared up at Merrick, knowing exactly how transparent he was at the moment. The hiss wasn't anger, and it wasn't pain. Merrick smirked, slowly rolling the lobe between his index finger and thumb. Draven suppressed a shiver and jerked his head out of Merrick's hands. "Cheating." 

"Effective." Merrick teased, the word mimicking Draven's stern tones. 

"I couldn't see the datapad. Nothing that physically impairs my ability to see and type." 

"You? Trying to put rules on war?" Merrick said, his voice a low purr. 

"You're the honorable one. Be creative." 

Merrick braced himself along the back of the chair and levered himself up, slowly circling behind the chair. That was distracting; Draven felt exposed, his senses set to high alert when there was a body behind him. Merrick knew it. Merrick was going to use it. 

Ever the hunter, Draven mused ruefully as he kept typing. 

He stiffened when Merrick's mouth settled against his neck, managed to keep typing despite the clever tongue dancing hot over his skin, through the sharp nip against his already-abused ear. He worked even as Merrick's hands slid slowly up his chest and undid his tie, his collar, cool air brushing along warm skin. 

Merrick's hands went down, teasing along his belt, slowly untucking the shirt from the pants. Draven couldn't stop his body from shifting to help, and Merrick gave a satisfied hum of success near Draven's ear. 

Warm fingers found his stomach as Merrick nosed around his collar, nipping bites along Draven's shoulder as his fingers played through the soft hairs around his waistline. Draven's toes curled as he fought to concentrate, more and more desperate to give up and give himself over to Merrick's hands. 

Time to fight back. "We should move in together. Officially." 

Merrick's hands stilled. "I think by this point it is official. They haven't given me seperate quarters in _years,_ Dav."

After Scarif, after Yavin, after their sentimentality had been laid bare, Draven had taken Merrick home from medical. There was bluster, grumbling about how Merrick needed to be watched or he'd fuck up his healing. It was true. It was also true that Merrick had never moved out again. 

Merrick's hands started to work on his belt, and Draven said, "I was thinking off-base. Maybe getting a house." 

Merrick hummed. He drummed his fingers along Draven's stomach. "Could be nice. We'd just have to sell it once the government center settled, though. Everyone else would be selling at the same time. Not exactly a good investment." 

Success. For Merrick, the recklessness seemingly inherent to all pilots was supported by careful consideration, give him a new scenario and he had to feel out the details. Draven focused back in on his work, throwing out, "So we rent for a bit. We could have a kitchen. Do you cook?" to keep Merrick distracted a little longer. 

Merrick made it forty-five seconds into an explanation of how he had joined the Defense Force young and never really had to cook for himself, but he was pretty sure, given a couple months and his dad's old recipe book that he could— 

"Oh you bastard," Merrick muttered, palm pressing against Draven's belly. "You'll pay for that." He sealed his mouth where neck met collar, pulled the skin between his teeth, and bit down. Hard enough to bruise, hard enough to hurt, hard enough that Draven flung his head back in surrender, his hand leaving the keys to wind through Merrick's hair, holding him against his neck. 

Merrick worried the skin a moment longer, until he pulled a moan out of Draven. Then, he pulled back, blew across the mark, a soothing chill that left Draven shivering. "There we are," Merrick said, sounding pleased. "Back with me?" 

"Never left," Draven said, pulling Merrick in for a heated kiss. 

"Not true.The job steals you." Merrick mumbled against his mouth. He caught Draven's lower lip between his teeth and pulled back. "That's okay. As long as you keep coming back." 

Draven ran his tongue over his stinging lip. "What if I stop leaving?" 

Merrick pulled himself up from where he was over Draven's chair. He grabbed the back of the chair and spun Draven around to face him. Draven looked up at Merrick, who had an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. "I know you miss me. I know I'm important to you. You don't need to pretend to be someone other than who you are." 

Draven stood up, put his hands on Merrick's shoulders, twisted them around, and nudged until Merrick let himself be settled in the chair Draven had just evacuated. 

Merrick looked confused. 

"I'm nearly finished. You should read it." Draven spun the chair around again, so Merrick was facing the screen. 

With one last skeptical look over his shoulder, Merrick leaned forward and started reading. He stopped after just a few seconds. "Dav..." his tone was wary. 

"Read it." 

* * *
    
    
      
    
    Mon,  
    
    The ink wasn't even dry on the peace treaty before you got your offer to me. I'm impressed.  
    
    I’m afraid won't be taking it.  
    
    I know as well as you do, the work to maintain the peace will be as hard as the war that earned it. I applaud your willingness to continue the fight, but I do not share it. I think I've earned my share of peacetime. I've attached my formal resignation.  
    
    Respectfully yours,  
    
    Davits
    
    
    
    * * *
    
      
    
    To: The Alliance to Restore the Republic High Command; Chancellor Mon Mothma  
    
    From: General Davits Draven  
    
    Re: Resignation  
    
    I announce my intent to resign my commission, effective immediately, under the General  
    
    Release Order of Alliance forces. I recognize that the order was intended for our  
    
    ground-level troops, and as such, I am offering the Alliance High Command an option to  
    
    extend my commission an additional month, in order to ensure a smooth transfer of  
    
    responsibilities. Severance can be discussed 

* * *

Merrick finished reading and turned to him with a stunned expression. "What…?"

"I didn't quite finish it. I was a bit distracted." Draven leaned over the chair and nuzzled at Merrick's neck, a playful echo of the earlier assault. Something giddy was building inside him. Something free. 

"You're...quitting?" 

"Yes." 

"I thought your side of the war wasn't over." Merrick's tone was soft, confused. 

Draven tamped down his own building glee, keeping steady long enough to explain things clearly. He wasn't asking Merrick's permission. But Merrick's understanding was important. 

Draven straightened, leaving a hand on Merrick's shoulder. "It's not. And it never will be. If I wait to walk away...I'll never leave. My entire adult life has been shaped by war. I want to know what peace is like."

"Dav." Merrick sounded almost lost. "I...I never expected this." 

Draven flinched at that, glad that Merrick was still staring at the screen and wouldn't read his pain quite so quickly. He had hoped...

Draven stopped himself. He had hoped that Merrick would throw his arms around him and rejoice, despite the fact that Draven had never given him the slightest indication that he was planning retirement, that this abrupt change must be cause for concern, that Merrick was no-doubt worried that Draven was suffering somehow — a loss of identity, ideals, maybe. Draven understood why Merrick wasn't immediately celebrating. 

Still, some stardust-brained part of him had hoped that Merrick would understand this as easily as he understood the rest. 

Draven tightened his hand on Merrick's shoulder. "Mon sent me an offer thirty minutes after the ceasefire was signed. Director of Mid-Rim Intelligence. I didn't want it. That's when I started drafting this."

Merrick pushed back against the chair, Draven stepped back and out of the way, letting Merrick stand, turn, and face him fully. Merrick's eyes traced over Draven's face. Draven didn't bother trying to hide. Merrick had always been able to read him. 

"Are you doing this for me?" Merrick asked carefully. 

"No. I'm doing it for me. I'm doing it because if I don't, I will turn into the monster that the New Republic sets on its own citizens. That monster may be needed..." Draven felt weariness hit him, cynicism borrowing exhaustion from future days. "...but it won't be me. I'm not doing this for you." 

Merrick gave a slow nod. 

There was something else that needed to be said. Draven swallowed, bracing to crack open his soul and lay it down before Merrick. Easier to do, as time went on, but never easy. "But I would like to do it _with_ you."

For one long second, Merrick's face was unreadable, fixed with an expression Draven had never seen. Then Merrick's lips quirked up, wry smile and sparkling eyes as he said, "I think I'd like someplace near mountains. For our house."

Relief hit Draven, his knees nearly buckling out from underneath him. 

Merrick grunted, sounding alarmed. "Don't fall over! If I try to catch you I'm just toppling down too." Merrick reached for Draven nonetheless. 

Draven steadied himself and leaned toward Merrick instead, resting his face against Merrick's outstretched palm. Merrick ran his thumb soothingly along the curve of Draven's cheek. 

"You didn't honestly think I would object to this, did you?" Merrick asked, sounding amused. 

"I didn't know. That makes me twitchy." 

"Dav, baby, let me tell you right now," Merrick brought his other hand up, framing Draven's face, "I like you outrageously, excessively, exorbitantly. Without moderation or sense. I miss you terribly when you're gone and when you get back I just want to wrap you up and keep you safe. But that isn't who you are, and I've tried to hold myself back." 

Draven snorted in amusement. 

"I know, I'm terrible at it. But this is how I've shaped myself. A little more restrained, a little more careful, trying not to ask more than you were willing to give. Being grateful for what I got. And what I got! Dav, you have loved me so well. I've never needed you to be anything more than you are." Merrick leaned in, putting their foreheads together, his hands still not leaving Draven's face. "But Dav, for all that, I always thought...I always _knew_ that your duty would come first. That's one fight I never fought, because I knew I wouldn't win." 

"You're right." 

"I know." Merrick chuckled, his forehead shaking against Draven's. "But now you are setting the duty down all on your own. No fighting needed. And asking me to come with you to see what's next." Merrick pulled back again, his eyes boring into Draven's. "If this is what you want, really what you want, then Dav, I'm thrilled." 

Draven's hands came up, slotted themselves along Merrick's waist, an easy fit. Right where they belonged. Where he belonged. "Let's get old together, Antoc." 

Merrick's smile could light the galaxy. "There's nothing else I'd rather do." 

**Author's Note:**

> Major kudos to [Aeshna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeshna/) for coming up with the idea that Draven would look at the post-war situation and realize that if he didn't get out then, he would never escape. I have stolen the idea shamelessly. 
> 
> She and I also decided that Draven would make a good gardener in his retirement. He's patient. Likes shaping things to his will. And now, instead of murder, he gets grapes! A vast improvement. 
> 
> But, thank you anon for prompting this, and giving me a reason to think about them a little more, think about the future they might have together. [I’m on Tumblr,](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sassysnowperson) if you want to say hi.


End file.
